


Mixed Up Confusion

by siliconpine



Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), George Harrison - Fandom
Genre: Bob is confused, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sexuality Crisis, he just doesn't understand anything, my poor boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 14:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siliconpine/pseuds/siliconpine
Summary: Bob thinks about his relationship with George and what it all means





	Mixed Up Confusion

He knows it’s not George’s fault, but he can’t help but be frustrated. He wonders if George is this affectionate with everyone, if all the time spent together and loving nicknames and cuddles and tenderness he’s showered with is just a George thing. George seems like the type of person to say “I love you” to anyone he gets close enough to, but Bob feels like he’s on the receiving end more than George’s other friends.

Or maybe he’s just looking too deep into it, considering he hasn’t seen that much interaction between George and his friends because he prefers to be with George alone and gets tense and nervous around other people. It’s confusing, and he wishes he could get a read on George, but he’s bad at stuff like human emotions which he tries to avoid at all costs, and he doesn’t have the nerve to bring up.

He’s not even sure if he likes men. He has nothing against it, and has found them physically appealing before, but that doesn’t really mean anything. George is just unfairly attractive with his cheekbones and dark soulful eyes that he can never resist.

He hasn’t ever romantically loved a man, but it could just be because there was nobody suitable around who appreciated him for who he was. It felt different with women. With Sara and Carolyn, it was butterflies in his stomach and exhilaration but also apprehension. He hasn’t felt anything similar in years. However with George, there’s tenderness and warmth and familiarity. Ironically it’s new, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.

He loves George, he just isn’t sure in which way.

George understands him and doesn’t expect him to pretend to be someone he isn’t. To be the spokesperson or the prophet or the great songwriter. He can allow himself to be open, to strip away all the walls he’s built to guard himself from the people that seem to have so many needs and requirements. With George, there are no demands, and he’s not pressured into anything.

Their interests are alike. Everyone seems to be making music for commercial gain nowadays. He knows that there are some rare artists out there who truly enjoy it, but he’s never met anyone who he feels like he could play with freely. With George he can spend hours doodling around on a guitar or ukulele, just trying to coax out new chords and rousing wonderful sounds out of them. He’s also always loved poetry, always been called old and unconventional for loving it. Most of the sting is taken away when he can discuss it with him. He’s no longer afraid to read it aloud when George listens with a dreamy look in his eyes.

When he was younger, society’s sense of humor constantly eluded him by the fingertips, so he gave up trying to catch it. He still cannot comprehend what it is that’s so funny about their gibes that they called jokes. Too many people toss around barbs and taunts lightheartedly as if nobody suffers from humiliation and shame. It exhausts him trying to put up with it all. George enjoys plays on words, and making up wildly absurd characters. They find unexpected pleasure in rhymes that are confusing and clever, and giggle at nothing and everything.

He can be unrestrained with his jokes around George, no longer needing to watch others force a laugh at his deadpan quips or he himself having to awkwardly smile at their taunts and mockery as not to offend them. George is generous in his laughter, and it soothes and fills Bob with joy whenever he hears the familiar sound.

George never speaks in riddles. Instead, he is refreshingly straightforward and honest. Bob doesn’t have to mentally translate everything in his head, strip it all down, and look for unspoken messages or worse, passive aggressive remarks and veiled insults. There is no concealed hierarchy, or presumption he can read minds that comes from the people he associates with.

The people that he feels like an outsider with, as if they speak a different language that he’s not comfortable with. He can understand their words, knows their definitions, but can’t grasp their meaning, and he constantly feels as if people are either laughing at him or pitying him for it. It repulses him.

George makes everything better. He knows that for sure. He’s attracted to George like moths are attracted to light. He can’t help it. But he doesn’t know whether it’s romantic attraction, that George is the fire he’s willing to fly into, or if he’s just been surrounded by darkness for so long that George, who is one the only light he can see, just seems like that fire.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this all on my tumblr btw at https://siliconpine.tumblr.com/


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